Phor. Well; but what can’t be cur’d must be endur’d:
’Twere well, and like yourself, that we were friends.
Dem. I! friend to you? or choose to see or hear you!
Phor. Do but agree with her, you’ll have a girl
To comfort your old age. Your years, consider!
Dem. Plague on your comfort! take her to yourself!
Phor. Ah! don’t be angry!
Dem. One word more, I’ve done.
See that you fetch away this wench, and soon,
Or I shall turn her headlong out o’doors.